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2013.04.15 - Like A Deer In Headlights
It's taken longer than she had intended for Fern to set about an errand to put an obvious mistake to rights, but a clear, mild Monday morning sees her undertaking that task. She approaches the Baxter Building unhesitatingly, pushing through the glass doors into the lobby and taking a few strides in before pausing to look around. She has -no- idea where she's going, but there's an information desk, so that's her first destination. With a few people before her, Fern stands back, waiting patiently. She's not in a hurry, she seldom is, so she doesn't mind having a minute to look around further. The lobby is a bustle of people, which is to be expected in such a huge building. Most are dressed in business clothes, which makes Fern in the minority, in her short purple skirt and purple t-shirt. Her choice of colors, combined with her red hair, makes for an uncanny resemblance to Daphne, but that's a whole 'nother genre. She shifts from one black boot to the other, hoping that when she actually does get to ask where she might find Ben Reilly that she won't be met with a blank stare. Off to the side of the lobby is a coffee shop that is available for the general public. How it got there he figures is Sue's doing. Sure the place makes a bit of profit because what Baxter Building onlooker could resist the smell of freshly baked goods. On top of the typical coffee fanfare the place did serve soup and sandwiches. Inside the place sits Ben Reilly alone at a table wearing a labcoat complete with an ID tag that comes with security clearance. Underneath the coat is a dark blue workshirt and brown cargo pants. He does -try- to look semi-professional when working with Dr. Richards. It's lunch time for Ben, that much is obvious as he is ripping off pieces of a breadbowl that holds chicken noodle soup, the soup of the day. Dunking pieces of bowl into the broth and popping them into his mouth Ben savors the taste. Finally, Fern eases up to the information desk, asking a very attractive blond where she might find her target. The young man informs her, in fact, that he saw Ben go into the coffee shop not long ago, and perhaps she ought to check there. "Thank you," Fern responds with her usual bright smile. "If he's not there, you'll see me again." She turns with a swirl of skirt, and tromps her way over and into the cozy eatery, spying Ben almost at once despite the crowd. With a few light excuse me's, she works her way over to draw up next to him. "Ben," she says, smile still in place. "I was hoping to find you." Ben sits for many moments trying to think of Glenn quotes but can only come up with Daryl dialogue instead. He looks to the redhead then pushes the chair across from him out, so she can sit down. "You may not want to get too close. Chemicals can smell bad sometimes. Can't have a pretty waitress getting weirded out by strange scents," a soft smile is on his face. Before she takes the offered chair, Fern makes a show of taking a deep breath and holding it, then leaning to give Ben an around the shoulders hug. She grins as she plops into the chair, smoothing her skirt with a quick swipe of one hand. "I'm sure you don't smell any stranger than most guys do, don't worry," she quips lightly. Blue eyes settle levelly on the young man and she nods. "Lookit you, all in your lab coat. Very professional, Mr. Reilly." Dark brown eyes look at Fern, "I try to be but I love the job even if I hate the title that comes with it." Smiling at Fern he looks to the display case holding cookies, muffins, and other pastries. "I can get you a sandwich if you want. Or a pastry, something sweet. Since it's built where I eat and work I've got a tab going. Just put it on my bill," he offers the woman before pulling off another piece of bread. Time ticks by before he asks, "Is this conversation a little awkward?" Fern's light brows lift, "Oh? What's your title?" She glances toward his tag, but it's twisted so she can't read it. "Thanks, I'm good," is the response to his offer, "but hey, that reminds me why I hunted you down." As if she'd forgotten. She drops one hand, fingers dipping into her boot, pulling out a slip of paper from next to her ankle. She grins, "It wasn't awkward, but it could go there. You made a math error on your bill at the restaurant, so I brought you this." She slides the paper toward him on the table, a folded check, and adds, more softly, "Glenn." "No error. If Lou Ferrigno, you know the body builder guy, always gives a one-hundred and ten percent no matter what then I can always give a thousand percent," he smiles brightly at the woman. "AT least that's what Glenn should always give to Maggie. Keeps them safe from Walkers and what not," the smile doesn't leave his face. She's not going to be put off that easy, and Fern taps her fingers on the untouched check. "I can't let you do that. You're my friend." She might not protest such a gesture from a stranger, but friends have different rules. Like, you never take advantage of them. "I kept a fair tip. Generous even," she adds helpfully. "Noooope," Ben says unwilling to move on this issue. He has his reasons and that was that. He feels her service is worth four-hundred dollars and that's what she is getting. If there's anything a stubborn person hates, it's running into another stubborn person. Fern's lips press and her fingers come to rest atop the folded check. She changes tactics, and the subject, abruptly. "So you're that guy? I expected something, I do with most of the people that know Jubilee, but I didn't expect that." Raising an eyebrow at the comment he has to ask, "What do you mean by -that- guy? I'm just like any other red-blooded teenager out there. I like nerdy things, got beat up a lot, all sorts of fun traumatic stuff I'll be telling the in house counselor in the not too distant future." He shoots Fern a look with the reply. The check gets a slide across the table, near to Ben's plate, before Fern withdraws her hand and sits back, leaving it there. "You know what I mean. It's not really the place for going into details." Hey, he wears a costume. People who do that don't usually want to be discussing matters like actual zombies in the middle of a coffee shop. "I just want ya to know that I'm not going to go blabbing or anything. It's cool. You guys do good things." At first Ben's pretty upset. Usually people use the term, "That Guy," to describe someone with socially awkward characteristics. Like you're the kid from kindergarten that ate all the paste. Then when she adds on the little amendment of "You guys do good things," everything clicks for Ben. Looking down at his soup, which is lukewarm at best by now, "I'm not the famous one. I'm not the one with the Man tacked on his name. The one with an affinity for red," the words are very low. "I didn't run into Jubilee at a club or some anonymous support group for people like us," a smile starts to tug up at the corner of his lips. "I ran into her because I worked a crappy job in mall security. She was getting into an argument with the manager and did it with her pants down. I was called onto the scene. First it's hard not to look because ummm cute girl in her undies, but beyond that...she was just very cute in my book." His spoon caresses the outside of what's left of the breadbowl as his hands don't wish to be idle during the tail, "A purse snatcher ran by. I huffed it out and caught the guy. Jubilee followed me in all of her underwear modeling glory. People saw the takedown and cheered. People saw Jubilee and laughed, or lingered. With her face turning red Jubles wanted to run and hide in a hole. I offered her my hoodie to crawl into instead then told her where she could meet me after my shift. One chocolate shake and small french fry from the food court later...we agreed to visit more. Then all that turned to dating. We just happened to have the same fetish for spandex and leather," he admits everything with a smile despite the code sounding very dirty. Looking at the redhead he speaks with calm words, "I gave you the tip because I know what it's like to work a shitty job. Even if you love the job you can't say the pay is all that great. I've worked mall security, as a crossguard, retail security for a private firm and too many other jobs to pay for a crappy little apartment. When I got offered the job here it was like becoming Cinderella and getting whisked away to the ball. I make money, I make damned good money. However, it's not the money that gets me nor the persk of having a bigger apartment with a view, finding a family, it's the fact that this job is one I love. With Reed making so many progresses in the field it's very easy to work overtime. At the end of the day I'm sitting pretty," a shrug of his shoulders come next. "I gave you the money because you've earned it. The job may be awesome in your book but I know the pay isn't great. Most waitresses work for less than minimal wage as a base pay with tips being most of your paycheck. Too many times you can get stiffed by some cheap bastard, or someone that simply feels they shouldn't tip for a dollar cup-of-coffee. The money is yours for all the times you've had to deal with a party of eleven and they've bitched about the added gratuity. For all the times some random jerk that has the money to order everything off the menu leaves you less than five dollars. And I won't take no for an answer." Fern sits quietly, not attempting to interrupt Ben, then touching on his points, one by one, her voice low and mild. "Well, sure, ok, you might not have had something like that in common with Jubilee, but you do, so I'm right, no matter how you met. And I've seen Jubes in that state, I certainly can't say I blame you for noticing." She shrugs then, and allows, "I don't make the best money, but I get by." Barely, but she still does. "It's just... you're a friend," she attempts again. "Yes you're right, but don't think that makes any of us not like everyone else either. Also, we haven't crossed business and personal lines yet. One day sure but no rush," he adds looking to Fern. When she brings up the friend point a counterpoint is waiting, "Yes. And as your friend I know you're making enough to get by, but know it'd be nice to have enough to enjoy a really good meal, maybe buy something fun that's outside of your budget because hey, I've been there. So, as your friend," he emphasizes this fact by raising his voice, "I want to help out. Thusly you would be hurting my feelings and insulting our friendship because I'm trying to help you, by doing you a solid, which is what you're doing to me. If you don't take the money I'm just going to have Jubilee spy on you to figure out four-hundred dollars worth of stuff you're looking to get and leave it on your door anonymously. You could save a few steps by knowing as your friend, I'm more than happy to do this," a sweet smile plasters itself across his face. "Of course you're not like anyone else. -I'm- not like anyone else, that's the human condition," Fern says simply, reaching across and tearing a small piece off the remainder of Ben's bread bowl. She nibbles off it, mollified by his point about the huge tip. Finally, with a huff of breath, she slaps her hand down onto the check and draws it back toward herself. Smirking, "Now let's see if you don't think I'm nuts. I'm," looking about the place Ben shakes his head. Turning his attention back to Fern, "Why don't you come with me?" the words are low and he gives the coffee shop workers a wave. "C'mon," his voice is loud so in case Fern is falling behind she knows to move it. Flashing his ID to the front desk Ben points at the redhead, "Just hanging out in the homestead." The desk man gives Ben a nod and lets the two of them pass. Going to the elevator he holds open the door for Fern. Pressing his room number he looks at his friend, "Hear me out, all I ask. Okay?" knowing the cryptic talk is probably not easing her too much he puts a hand on her shoulder, "Nothing bad. No virgin sacrifices or weird experiments dressed in a gold speedo. Scout's honor," he holds up two fingers to show the seriousness of the situation. When the elevator dings the doors open and Ben leads Fern down a hallway that hosts a few doors all of them with numbers. Walking up to number four, Ben pulls out his keys and opens it. White tiles spread across all of the floor, white paint crawls up the ceiling and walls, mostly everything in this room is white. What isn't white is the modern refrigerator with the steal doors, a stack of cooking books nearby the stove, a few orangy-red stains nearby the books showing some evidence of last night's experiment called dinner, the black legs on white cushioned seats moved around a glass table, a brown leather couch that's slowly doing away with the leather like it's dead skin rests in a living room that's adored with a cheap black coffee table and television stand for a sixty inch plasma television, both the finest walmart has to offer, bits of color from pizza boxes that stick out a trash can, and the black and greys from a black and white poster of Albert Einstein sticking out his tongue. "Welcome to Glenn's!" he declares letting the woman take everything in. Fern steps lively, keeping up with Ben despite his longer stride, and once in the elevator she peers at him. Then a laugh comes. "Good heavens, Ben, I don't think you're some kind of freak." She's not afraid of him, no matter what his capabilities are, he's a friend, after all. Again, she hurries after him down the hall and to his abode. There's a quick look around, but her focus quickly settles back on Ben. "Nice place." "Sit," he says pointing to the couch then hurrying off down a hallway to nab something in his bedroom. Walking back out with a laptop in hand, "When I was younger I heard a man speak. A great man in fact. He said with Great Power comes Great Responsibility and at the time I didn't know what he meant. I've had to learn it and I think it's prepared me to do all the freaky things I do. What makes a hero isn't about the powers, it isn't about the gadgets, it's about the character underneath it all. A hero with all the power in the world that doesn't understand that saying is going to pale against some spunky person that fully understands that saying," a sigh escapes his lips as he pushes past the pain associated with bringing up Uncle Ben...well Peter's Uncle Ben. Setting the laptop down, unopened, on the couch Ben retreats back to his room then returns with the Scarlet Spider costume, the one designed by Reed Richards and a web-shooter. He lays them gently onto Fern's lap. "Go ahead and take a look at them. I won't deny I have powers and gear, but those don't make me a good hero. Somewhere deep down I think I'm a good person because I really took those words to heart and understanding them makes me a good hero. People just think you get a bad ass power and it's INSTA-HERO time. Well, I can tell you it's not," he takes the laptop and sits next to her. "Being a hero is doing something you did when Zombies were trying to gnaw off our faces Maggie. You were stuck in a place you didn't know, back against the wall, scared, confused, but once things got hairy you stood up. You fought back. You may not have known what you were doing, like most of us. In a sea of costumed people, magic users, and all this other fun stuff is a waitress fighting shoulder to shoulder. I firmly believe you were the best of us this day. And in light of that," he opened up the laptop to show her a picture. With a regular pencil and paper Ben sucks as an artist, but put him behind photoshop and he's not bad. There's a woman's costume that's mostly red with bits of yellow between black accents. A yellow hour-glass like spider symbol is on the chest, "Reed can design the suit for you. Just like mine but with a few added goodies. You wouldn't be able to punch like me or Iron Man, but you'd be above a regular person. You could stick to walls. The webbing you can make with me...Or if you don't like it, we can come up with something more for you," the teen pauses for a moment the adds, "I'm bringing it up because you have every quality to be a good hero. I suggested Spider-Girl because I'm partial to Spiders. Yeah, I know there's a Spider-Girl once before but I haven't seen her lately. And well, sometimes in the hero world it's okay to honor a name, but at the same time to make your own path with it. As long as you due the right thing, then who cares about the canon of people that come before? Make it the mantle your own and I think you'd fit the mantle pretty well." He holds up a finger, "Before you say no because I know I threw a million things at you," Ben is socially inept like that, "Can you at least think it over?" The young woman sinks to the couch as instructed, looking curiously at Ben as he returns, leaves again, and comes back with his 'gear'. Again, Fern lets him have his say rather than trying to interrupt, but her frown deepens as he gets to the 'you could stick to walls' and everything associated with it. Clearly he can read her expression, as he holds up his finger with the caveat to not decline out of hand. That sure is a lot thrown at her all at once, and she looks a little bit like a deer in headlights. Finally she says, "I'd look terrible in an outfit like that." One's head wraps around what it's able to handle. She stands again, absently smoothing her skirt, the check having been safely tucked back away in her boot. "I think..." you're delusional? Probably not the best path to take there. "I need time to think about all this, yeah." She edges toward the door, "I'll call you?" "I figured. But trust me when I say this, heroes are made from good people and you're one of the best," he says smiling at her. All of this is a front as he is reminded of the time he told Hawkeye nearly EVERYTHING about the Fantastic Four arrangement. She had a similar, yet a little more reserved, reaction. Fern hesitates, then steps forward and gives Ben a quick hug. His praise brings a blush, but she doesn't comment on his words. "We should get together. Double date or something." She sighs softly, still trying to process this whole new twist to their conversation, and offers him a half smile. "I'll call you. Or you call me. Soon." She steps to the door to let herself out, somehow managing to find her way back to the outside world of New York City. Category:Log